


Motes & Motors: Déjà Vu

by martieek



Series: Motes & Motors [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arson, Dissociation, Fire, Healing, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Panic, Peril, Time Skips, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martieek/pseuds/martieek
Summary: Growth can never be stopped.  Something will always rise from the ashes, and it will almost always be stronger.





	Motes & Motors: Déjà Vu

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to an anon who asked me for some shatt in peril, and also to everyone who's been so amazingly kind and supportive to not only this AU but all the rest of my work :^)
> 
>  
> 
> [Motes & Motors playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/asilverboy/playlist/2q1FmNMVJZJSTvNNbhNTdN?si=Nd6b3X4vR86pKYjFEMVdpg)

“So, it’s official?”

Matt grinned, nodding as Shiro wiped off what he could of the grease on his hands for what had to be the thousandth time that day, judging by the oil stains all over his clothes and skin.

Matt had swung by the garage as soon as he could after all confirmations had been made.  Pulling himself close against Shiro, Matt didn’t mind the way he smelled exactly like one would expect a mechanic to smell post-shift—at this point, he was honestly kind of into it.  He laced his fingers behind Shiro’s neck. “All that’s left is the overwhelming _déjà vu_ of packing up and going back.”

Shiro smiled, extra bright through the grime on his skin as he brushed a stray hair from Matt’s face.  As if the gesture had revealed the smidge of anxiety Matt had been trying to simultaneously avoid and resolve all day, Shiro tilted his head and observed, “You look worried.”

“Not _worried_ ,” Matt said, planning to elaborate, but a deep inhale replaced his next words.  For a second he held it, but in that time, Shiro pulled away from him, insisting upon letting himself get cleaned up as he headed toward the door connected to the house.

Matt chewed his lip, delaying his steps after Shiro and then catching up in a few short strides.  He leaned against the doorframe as Shiro discarded his coveralls toward the washer, invested in the remedial task.  Matt let out that breath. “Come with me.”

Carding his own hair, Shiro met Matt’s gaze, blank for a second as he processed.  When Matt’s proposition registered, Shiro’s brow furrowed, and Matt grew sheepish.

“To school?” Shiro asked.

“No, no, you don’t have to go to school,” Matt laughed, a nervous sound as he stepped into the foyer.  He allowed himself a moment of uncertainty before straightening to hold Shiro’s curious stare. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t been thinking about this for ages.  “But I’m leasing an apartment in town there; it’s not on campus or anything. Just, my own place—like a real, genuine big kid, finally.” Matt and Shiro traded small smiles, and Matt licked his lips.  “And I want to share that with you. A new start for both of us.”

Suddenly feeling very exposed, all Matt could think of was how he should have rehearsed that better or said more or something, but the thought was fast eclipsed by Shiro’s smile as he closed the space between them.  “Are you asking me to move in with you?” he teased, tilting Matt’s head gently by the chin.

“Well,” Matt shrugged, “ _I_ haven’t moved in yet, so technically I’m asking you to move _out_ with me.  And _then_ move in.”

They laughed softly together, Shiro pressing his forehead to Matt’s, holding him for a few quiet moments.  “I want to,” he whispered, delighting Matt. “But, the garage… I’d have to help Allura and Coran find a replacement, make sure they’d be okay.”

“They’ll be fine,” Matt insisted, palms pressing to Shiro’s chest.  “Not that you’re not needed or beneficial,” he corrected quickly, flashing a smile.  “But, hey, my sister’s gonna need a job to pay for her own tuition anyway, or even Hunk.  He’s great with work like this.”

Shiro laughed, but doubt still clouded his features.  “Keith’s here, he—”

“Keith would tell you to go; I know he would.”  At Shiro’s thinly veiled expression of resignation, Matt’s voice softened.  “I know you’ve always been together, but he’s been doing his thing now. It’s not that you don’t need each other anymore, but he’s started over.  He’ll want you to do the same.” A beat, then Matt added, bitter in passing, “You wouldn’t have to worry about Dax’s shit gang anymore, and that means _I_ wouldn’t have to worry about them either.”

Shiro’s eyes were warm yet tired, so Matt wrapped his fingers around Shiro’s, bringing them to his lips.  “But you don’t have to decide anything right now. It wouldn’t be any sort of contractual obligation. We could just consider it an experiment, and if it isn’t what you want, you can always come back here.  I’m not gonna force you, but just think about it.”

Shiro sighed and kissed Matt’s forehead.  “You say that like you don’t know how hard you are to resist.”  Matt smiled, giddy as Shiro moved to kiss him on the mouth, and he kept Shiro there to kiss him back over and over.

“Allura and Coran are out, right?” Matt said, low against Shiro’s lips.

“They’re celebrating the anniversary of the garage’s opening,” Shiro breathed back in a laugh, knowing where Matt was going with this.

“Why don’t we do some celebrating too?”

“In a minute,” Shiro said, pulling away much to Matt’s chagrin.  “I really gotta wash up. Did you eat?” Shiro started toward the stairs with a loose gesture toward the kitchen as Matt followed.  “There’s leftovers, I’ll just be a sec.”

While Shiro hopped in the shower, Matt considered joining him there but decided against it in favor of preemptively lying down on Shiro’s bed, taking the moment to think in spite of past experience with being alone with his thoughts.  Listening to the running water in the next room, Matt found himself indulging domestic daydreams where that was a sound he got to listen to every day. Matt enjoyed the prospect of doing stupid cozy things with Shiro: takeout dinners and movie rentals, evening excursions through parks and streets, listening to the rain in bed when they’ve both got a day to themselves…

Matt ran a hand over his face, shaking the images from his head with a quiet laugh.  What was he turning into, some kind of sap?  And besides, Shiro hadn’t officially said ‘yes’ yet.

A telltale squeak of the faucet signaled Shiro getting out of the shower, and Matt peered out through the bedroom door as he entered.  In a fresh tee and sweats, Shiro tossed his dirty clothes into their basket, smiling as he joined Matt on the bed.

“Tired already?” he asked when Matt just rolled over closer to Shiro, innocent as could be.

“I’m kinda good with just doing this tonight,” said Matt, in fact weary, draping an arm over Shiro’s waist to pull himself closer.  He felt the subtle hitch of Shiro’s quiet laugh, shifting so Matt’s head nestled onto his shoulder.  Shiro buried a kiss in his hair.

Matt felt fully ready to doze off until he took a deep breath.  “Is that Allura’s shampoo?”

“I ran out,” Shiro chuckled.  “You don’t like it?”

“It smells better on her.”

“Noted.”

For whatever span of time Matt didn’t bother to keep track of, he and Shiro lie quiet and comfortable, eyes closed though never quite falling asleep.  With no other sounds aside from their breathing, it was hard to miss the sudden commotion from outside.  Voices shouting in the street, louder than the usual ambiance, drew Shiro’s attention enough for him to lift his head toward the window.

“What the hell?”

“Just close it,” Matt mumbled, disgruntled at the disturbance but not enough to open his eyes.

“It is closed.”  Shiro gently scooted out from underneath Matt, standing to walk over to look outside, but in a jarring second he lept back from the sudden shattering of glass, the windowpane bursting inside the room in a splintered shower.

“Jesus!” Shiro swore as Matt jolted upright with a gasp.  Before either could react further, there was a whoop and a shout from below in prelude to a second projectile launching in through the broken window.  Even the blink it took for Matt to process was too slow, and he cried out in time with the blasting wave of heat that sent him and Shiro reeling away from the swell of flame across the floor.

“Fuck!” Shiro cried, the tail-end of the explosion lighting his pant leg on fire, a splash of fuel trailing the flame up his side.  From somewhere outside of his own body, Matt watched himself grab the top sheet off the bed to smother the flames through blind instinct.  His voice broke on _sorry! sorry!_ when Shiro cried out again in pain at the contact.

As if a timer had set in Matt’s head, he felt himself switch to auto-pilot.  Shiro stumbled into Matt, shifting his weight in a way that revealed he’d stepped on glass in the initial burst.  Matt helped Shiro balance, eyes darting to see where to start killing the fire, but the flames in the room had already begun to spread further than the sheet could handle.

“Oh, my God,” Matt exhaled, unable to even hear himself.   _Five minutes_ , his brain ticked, a clinical recollection against his underlying panic.   _Less than five minutes before we can’t get out._

“The hallway, the fire extinguisher,” Shiro grunted over the rumbling of the flames.

Matt froze for a moment before nodding, frantic.  He glanced toward the bedroom door with nothing but the thought of _Dad, call Dad!_ running through his mind in a loop until the loop turned into a track.

_Call Dad._

_Phone downstairs._

_Get downstairs._

_Don’t leave Shiro._

Matt already had a panicked hold of Shiro’s arm, guiding him toward the hall.   _Come on, come on!_

The fire worked fast.  Shiro, less so.  He limped along after Matt, sucking in air through his teeth.  Matt tried shifting their positions to bolster what of Shiro’s weight he could as the hot air in the bedroom began searing their backs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Matt gasped, the situation starting to register halfway through the hallway.

Again, the sound of glass breaking and the whoosh of fire came from downstairs.

_What the fuck, are they trying to kill us?_

“Matt!” Shiro’s said, voice harsh from pain and speaking over the spreading fire and chaos.  “Get down and go call—”

“I’m working on it!”  Matt glanced to the extinguisher and then back to Shiro.  Shiro needed out.  Matt couldn’t deal with the fire now.

_Phone._   He had to get to the phone.

The smoke alarms began to sing as he led Shiro toward the stairs.

Shiro, in his own panic, tried to protest with his hobbling onto the first step.  “Matt, get outside, _please,_ I’ll come after you.”

“ _No_ , just come on.”  Matt glanced to Shiro’s foot, soaked in blood from the glass of the Molotov, and he choked back a gasp.  Their pace was too slow, Matt knew it, but his mind began focusing into a second loop: _Get Shiro Out._

The fire was moving toward them on both floors, Matt and Shiro both starting to cough as they descended the stairs one at a time.  Fear mixed with the smoke and stole Matt’s breath, and he lost his footing on the last stair. There was something inherently wrong about the way his ankle bent.  Pain bolted up his leg, and Matt made a pitched sound, stumbling backward, his grip on Shiro’s sleeve anchored enough to pull Shiro forward after him.

The wall caught them, and they braced each other as they regained their compromised footing.  Matt refastened his hold on Shiro, but at the first bit of weight on his ankle it felt the way the smoke alarms sounded, and Matt let out another pained gasp.

Heat.  Too hot.  Hundreds of degrees by now, surely?  Flames roaring as they teared across the house.  Matt couldn’t move—he couldn’t find an exit.   _Where do we go?_

Sweating, coughing, Shiro still had a better grip of himself in the chaos.  “Garage,” he croaked. “ _Go._ ”

“I’m not leaving you, Shiro.”  Matt’s voice didn’t belong to him anymore.  He was someplace else, someplace far away, watching as the fire worked angry and swift, all around them.  The flames laughed, lapping at walls and furniture as Shiro and Matt carried each other back toward the foyer into the garage.  The fire couldn’t be there yet?  They could still get out okay?

Matt felt his own body screaming, the strain in his ankle and lungs, panic riddling his limbs with near-uselessness.  Something cracked above him, like thunder, and Matt felt his heart honestly leap at the thought of _Rain?_

Not rain.

“ _Matt!_ ”

Shiro shoved him, dislodging Matt’s grip on Shiro and pitching him forward onto the floor of the foyer.  A blazing crash of—ceiling?—blocked Matt’s path backward.

“Shiro?”

Matt can’t see anything through the fire in front of him.  No response either.

_“Shiro!”  Please no please no please no._

Matt never made the decision to move on his own—fight or flight, autopilot, primal instinct, whatever it was had him righting himself and pivoting on his good foot into the garage.  Shiro had never locked the door to the outside, and Matt choked on the smoke and fumes as his vision tunneled to the exit.  He wasn’t relieved.  He wasn’t anything. He just fumbled with the knob, hands shaking and uncoordinated until finally it pulled itself open, away from him.

Arms were outstretched to catch him just on the other side, but Matt’s barking cough along with the smoke had screwed shut his eyes so he couldn’t see who it was.  Help. _Help._  Was that Matt saying that?

_Come on_ , an unfamiliar voice assured him, guiding him hurriedly away, and Matt felt the heat lessen behind him.  The sound of water.  Radios.  Whistles.

_Shiro._

Matt fought to open his eyes, fought to intake enough breath to say Shiro’s name out loud, but it just came out a strangled cry.  His knees buckled and he pitched forward again into someone else’s arms, a now familiar voice of relief speaking in muffled tones through the sloshing in Matt’s ears.

_Dad?_

The voice began to clarify.  “You’re alright, son.  Come here, come on, breathe through this, okay?”

Matt fought for air.  Despite being clear of the smoke, terror coiled tight in his chest as a mask covered his passageways.  His father’s steady hand rubbed at his arm, around his shoulder, encouraging him to sit in the back of one of the trucks.  Matt couldn’t sit.  He tugged at the mask despite Sam’s protests.

“Dad, Shiro’s inside—”

Frantic, Matt’s eyes darted back to the door he must have escaped from to find a pair of firemen balancing the weight of a limp figure between them.  Matt’s heart stopped, and he made a strangled sound.

“Matt, look at me!  Look at me!”  Sam asserted himself between the sight and his son, holding the mask back to Matt’s face.  “Son, you have to breathe for me right now. Right here, with me, okay?”

“Please don’t let him die!”

“It’s okay, Matt.”  Sam had his son in a tight embrace, bolstering him as Matt’s legs finally gave out.  Sam stroked the back of his head, Matt managing to hold the oxygen himself now when his body couldn’t take it anymore, chest still heaving too fast in his panic.

Sam spoke softly, but he held Matt so close that his voice drowned out all the rest.  “I’ve got you, son.”

Exhaustion, unbridled and ravaging, began to weigh Matt’s eyelids against his will, and they closed to keep the mental snapshot of the garage swallowed by flames.  As his own vitals slowed, he heard another pair of familiar voices crying and comforting each other somewhere nearby—Allura and Coran.

An engine revved, accompanied by the wailing siren of an ambulance that gradually faded.  Matt knew Shiro was inside of it.

 

* * *

 

Numb.

Even with an EMT taping up Matt’s ankle, even with the lingering sensation of smoke in his eyes and lungs, Matt didn’t feel any of it.  He stared vacantly ahead, the passage of time non-existent, voices and equipment all muddling together, sounding underwater as he sat on the bumper of an ambulance.

_Matt?_

One voice spoke gently, gradually rising over the rest of the noise.

“Son?”

Though his eyes had always been open, Matt blinked as if starting from a dream.  He hadn’t noticed the EMT switching to take his vitals until his father’s face became clear, the ringing in his ears dissipating.

“Matt…” Sam sighed, more words creasing his expression, but he visibly swallowed them all with a gentle shake of the head.  “Matt, what happened?”

Next to his father, Matt recognized the face of a man he’d seen in Sam’s office once before.  He spoke with hesitant authority.  “Sir, I really don’t think we should let you participate in this investigation.”

“I’m here as a father first, Detective,” Sam asserted.  “However, while I respect and admire your work, if you seriously think I’m gonna take the bench here instead of doing everything in my power to find out who the _hell_ wanted to hurt my boys, you are _sorely_ mistaken.”

The detective didn’t take long to consider before nodding.  “Yes, sir, Commander.”

“Where’s Shiro?”  Matt’s voice sounded pathetic and foreign to his own ears, but he had to speak the single thought that buzzed through his entire consciousness.  “I was—I tried to get him out, but he was—I couldn’t—I didn’t want to—”

“You can’t think you’re going to be a hero like that, Matt.”  Sam spoke harshly, but even in his shock Matt recognized the angry tone that masked paternal fear.  “You could have died.”

“You think I should have just _left_ him?” Matt protested, appalled as he grew clearer of mind.  “Like that would have killed me any less?”  He’d intended a wry laugh, but it came out a scratching wheeze.

Sam sighed, running a hand over his face to steady himself.  “It doesn’t matter now,” he said, as if trying to convince himself.  “You’re safe, and Shiro’s with the people who can help him best right now.”

Matt nearly leapt to his feet, breath hitching.  “I have to go see him, Dad, please, I—please, I have t—Is he okay?”

Resting a strong hand to Matt’s shoulder, assuring, Sam urged his son to stay put in a calming tone, balancing parental concern and professional duty.  “He’s at the hospital. Keith is there with him, and so are Allura and Coran.  I can take you over, but Detective Iverson and I need you to tell us what happened, son.”  Resentfully, Sam added under his breath, “You know how this works.”

 

* * *

 

Swallowing against the filthy taste of soot in his mouth, Shiro decided he was going to quit smoking.

He’d slipped back into consciousness to find Keith sitting just next to him in a dim hospital room.  Shiro blinked once before the stinging pain of treated burns and cuts sung through him.  With a sharp inhale, Shiro insisted on sitting up.  “Where’s Matt?” he croaked, barely intelligible as a racking cough burst forth.

Keith reached out to steady him, careful to avoid the injuries on Shiro’s arm.  “He’s okay.  You both are.”

“I did this to him again,” Shiro mumbled, staring into nowhere as he tried to stay upright.

Pacing the bed to sit next to him, Keith spoke firm but gentle.  “Shiro, this was Dax’s guys—it had to be.  Commander Holt is gonna personally lead an investigation and everything.  You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t even try blaming yourself for this.”

Before Shiro could process or protest, a nurse came in for a vital check, assessing Shiro’s wounds with some additional input from Keith when Shiro started zoning out.  Shiro blinked hard, forcing himself to return to the present in time for the nurse to give him approval to leave—his initial lack of responsiveness left her hesitant, but Shiro assured her he was just tired, and Keith assured her he’d be the one driving Shiro home.

With the nurse’s offer of a crutch and the warning to keep from tearing open any cuts or blisters, Keith led Shiro from the hospital room.  The only thing that kept Shiro from completely dissociating was the pungent bouquet of latex and sanitizer as they made their way to the waiting room.

“I sent Allura and Coran to the apartment with Lance,” Keith said softly.  “They’ll be happy to know you’re okay.”

“The garage…” Shiro began, trying to recall the state of the house before he’d blacked out.

“It’s… gone.”  Keith’s tone was grave, but he was quick to try lessening the blow.  “But everyone’s okay.”

Shiro still shook his head in devastation; everything Allura’s father had built, everything she and Coran took such pride in—just gone.

“They can build again,” Keith offered as if reading Shiro’s thoughts.  “What mattered most to them is that you and Matt are safe.”

Perking up at Matt’s name, Shiro looked ahead, expecting to see him.  “Where is he?”

Before Keith could answer, Shiro locked on to the familiar shape of Matt down the hall, curled up on a waiting room chair and trying not to nod off.  Shiro couldn’t fight a weak smile as he tossed Keith a look that Keith knew meant _give us a minute_ as Shiro hobbled over to where Matt sat.

Shiro shifted his weight to set the crutch against the side table, and he nudged Matt back to awareness.  His bleary eyes focused as Shiro joked feebly, “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“ _Shiro!_ ”  His name came out as an exhale thick with relief and raspy from the demanding evening as Matt lurched to his feet.  Stopping short of barreling into Shiro, Matt held his arms out in uncertainty.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, scanning Shiro up and down with red-rimmed eyes and trembling breath as he tripped over his own words.  “I just saw th-the ceiling—You were gone and then they were—the sirens and I was—”

“Okay,” Shiro shushed, pulling Matt into a gentle embrace that grew so tight it would have hurt if Shiro could have felt anything besides his own relief.  “It’s okay.”

Matt grasped back just as tight, voice quaking into Shiro’s shoulder.  “No one would tell me anything and when they wouldn’t let me see you I didn’t know if—I just kept thinking how—if I had—I should have—But I-I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Shiro continued to soothe against Matt’s unrelenting anxiety.  “Matt, it’s okay.”

Matt’s voice broke into a sob.  “Shiro, I was so scared.”

Shiro had never seen him like this.  Matt was trying so hard to keep himself together; Shiro could feel it with every hitching breath that rattled Matt’s frame and pierced Shiro’s own heart.  Somehow, Shiro managed to hold Matt even closer, rubbing at his back and shoulders, stroking the back of his head, rocking gently in place—anything to comfort the both of them.  The way Matt trembled in Shiro’s arms made it seem like he’d collapse if Shiro would let go.  So Shiro wouldn’t let go.  He didn’t ever want to let go.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” Matt whispered, strained.  He took a shuddering breath, pulling back enough to cup Shiro’s face and press their foreheads together.  “I can’t lose you, Shiro, I can’t, and I know that’s probably unhealthy like a codependency issue or something but when I couldn’t—” he tried to steady himself, “When I couldn’t see you anymore, I didn’t know what to—I didn’t know if—I thought you were gonna—”

“I didn’t,” assured Shiro, soft but firm with a kiss to Matt’s forehead, his own voice beginning to sound foreign and strained.  “It’s okay, baby, we’re okay.”  He ran a thumb over Matt’s cheek; he’d been cleaned up since the fire, but the depth of his exhaustion was etched into every inch of Matt’s face, weighing into his shoulders as fatigue left him unsteady.  Shiro had to admit he wasn’t much better off, but he knew the minute he let it all sink in, Shiro himself would collapse.  “It’s okay,” he said again, really trying to believe it.

“I love you,” Matt exhaled.  “Takashi, I love you so much.”

Shiro kissed Matt’s forehead again, pulling him back into an embrace.  “Let’s go,” he breathed into Matt’s hair that still smelled of smoke.  “You need to rest.”

Matt made a weak, shaky sound that Shiro realized was a laugh.  “Speak for yourself.”

 

* * *

 

Matt didn’t sleep well that night.  Shiro didn’t sleep at all.

Shiro knew Matt wouldn’t have _actually_ been alone—he had Pidge, his parents.  And Shiro knew he wouldn’t have _actually_ been burdening Keith and Lance by staying at their place along with Coran and Allura.  But those were his excuses for staying the night with Matt, when really, he just wanted to be with him.  Maybe they _were_ codependent, he’d thought wryly, in passing.  But Shiro just wanted to hold him.

So Shiro held him, all night, waking him from restless dreams and breathless nightmares.  He kept reminding Matt they were dreams, that _it’s okay, we’re safe, we’re at your house, I’ve got you._

_Have you slept at all?_ Matt would ask every time he was awake.  Shiro would shake his head, and Matt would apologize.

_It’s not your fault,_ Shiro would assure him, gently stroking Matt’s hair and willing him to find enough calm to rest.  To himself, Shiro would add, _This is why I didn’t want him to be alone._

After the third nightmare, Matt cried, exhausted.  Shiro knew he was trying to hide it; Matt wasn’t a crier.  So it only broke Shiro’s heart even more knowing that after everything Shiro had put him through, this was what finally broke something in Matt.  Even worse, it was what destroyed Allura and Coran’s livelihood, their way of keeping Allura’s father alive and proud, their _home_.   _His_ home.

When Matt finally fell back asleep, Shiro cried too.

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Cole was arrested on charges of arson and reckless endangerment.  Matt had told Shiro this with a grim smile, knowing it wouldn’t actually make anything better.  Dax had more guys, and those guys had guys.  Their reaches were far and deep.  Shiro had always known this, and Matt had had the misfortune of learning it.  Matt knew they wouldn’t stop.

Matt had to leave for school soon.  Again he asked Shiro to come with him, desperately, biting his lip when he said, _I want to be with you Shiro, but I don’t want us to be here._

Shiro said no.

_Not now, anyway._

He’d never be able to leave Allura and Coran like this.  He had to help them rebuild, recover.  They were his family, and they needed him now more than ever.  

Matt understood entirely.  But _he_ couldn’t stay.  Shiro understood entirely.

_Maybe this will be good for us too_ , Matt had said, half-jokingly.   _We can work on that independence thing.  And besides, I’ve seen your decorating choices; I’ll be glad to set up the apartment by myself._

Come the end of summer, Matt moved early into his apartment and started back to school.  It was weird to see in the newspapers at the store checkouts that Cole and two more of Dax’s guys were in jail.  It didn’t make Shiro feel better.  But as the air grew crisp and pumpkin spice everything lined the shelves of those same stores, he knew he’d start to feel better soon.

 

* * *

 

 

It had never occurred to Shiro how fast houses could be built.

In three months, as the first dusting of snow began, he was helping Allura and Coran move back in to the land where everything had been lost.  It was strange, Shiro thought—haunting, in a way.  But hopeful, too.  Allura and Coran were almost unreasonably optimistic, healing faster than Shiro could have ever expected.  They were already talking to Hunk and Pidge about hiring them for their new garage.  That made Shiro feel better.

Long-distance with Matt had felt strange at first, but they’d adapted quickly.  Matt had insisted on sending paper letters, writing hysterically exaggerated recountings of moving in, his classes, missing Shiro.  About a month into his schooling, he’d mailed Shiro a spare key.  No dramatic military-wife dialects attached to it; just a tiny sticky note that read, _For whatever you decide._

Matt had been right; Keith told him to go.  So when Shiro was sure Allura and Coran were secured, settled, and safe, when everyone finally believed everything was going to be okay, Shiro went.

 

* * *

 

 

On the few-hours’ drive to Matt’s apartment, it had occurred to Shiro that he wasn’t entirely sure if Matt liked surprises.  When he pulled into the address printed sloppily on all of Matt’s letters, Shiro withdrew the key he’d been sent and thought, _Guess I’m about to find out._

He stepped carefully inside, wiping the snow off his boots and looking around the apartment.  Matt was fast asleep on a futon, buried in his own paperwork. Giddy, near-childlike excitement flooded Shiro just upon seeing Matt’s face again, regardless of how askew his hair was and the pressure marks on his face and arm.  Matt seemed a bit of a graceless mess as usual, but Shiro couldn’t be happier to call this mess his own.

Shiro bit his lip with a deep breath as he crouched next to Matt and ran a calloused finger through his hair, sweeping the stray tendrils away from his closed eyes.  With a soft kiss to his temple, Shiro whispered a greeting into Matt’s ear, stirring him awake.  Shiro realized belatedly Matt might freak out thinking someone broke in, so Shiro made it a point to make sure Matt saw his face when he blinked into consciousness.

A second was all Matt needed to orient himself, register Shiro was here, and beam so wide it knocked the breath from Shiro’s chest, even before Matt shot up to gather Shiro in his arms in a clumsy, elated embrace.  Shiro laughed harder than he had in a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the end of the Motes & Motors timeline! There's one more installment for this AU that I'd like to write, and that's the very beginning where Shiro and Matt first meet, but gosh I am already juggling so many other things right now afjdkslafjd.
> 
> thanks so much for reading! you can find me on tumblr @martieek :^)


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